Page 51 of Sight of Fate

That kind of self-confidence is intoxicating and intimidating at the same time. I’d give anything to have a tenth of it.

The instant we step through the doors, the hostess greets us.

“Mr. Lochlan,” the petite violet-haired woman murmurs. Her gaze swings briefly to me. “Miss Ford. We have your table ready. Please follow Robert.”

Teague dips his head and motions for me to go first, his hand lightly touching the small of my back. Something I’m slowly getting used to both him and Macklin doing.

Quite a few of the tables are full, but the dim lighting and candles flickering on the tables give the restaurant a cozy, intimate vibe. Pressed white tablecloths and sparkling silverware convey a sense of luxury, while the cream walls and light wood flooring bring natural warmth to the space.

I swallow hard. This is the fanciest restaurant I’ve ever seen. Now I’m even more grateful to Victoria and Amara for their expertise. Nothing in my closet would have worked, and I’d have spent the whole night fidgeting and wishing I was at home in my pajamas.

Robert stops at a table in front of a huge bank of windows. Captivated by the view of Greystone and the valley spread out before us, lights twinkling in the dark, I slowly sink into my seat. Robert sets the menus down and leaves.

“This is one of my favorite places in Greystone,” Teague reveals, his tone low. “You can see the whole city from here. All the houses and businesses that give supernaturals a safe place to live, work, and raise their children in a setting that continues to steal my breath every day.”

“Over a hundred thousand, right?” I state, recalling what he said to me on our very first chat. “According to Raine, this Vale served as a blueprint for others. It’s an impressive legacy.”

Surprise crosses his face. “You remembered.” Then he shakes his head. “Not my legacy. Macklin’s. Andros and I helped, but this is his dream.”

The server, a woman with bright green eyes and black hair, comes up and introduces herself, and I can’t help but wonder what she is. After all, the last time we went to dinner, the restaurant was owned by wolf shifters.

“My name’s Aisling, and I’ll be taking care of you this evening.” She fills our glasses with water as she walks through the specials. “Can I bring you something to drink? A bottle of wine, perhaps?”

Teague gives her a polite smile. “Give us a minute or two, please.” When she leaves, he turns to me. “I’d love a bottle of wine, but only if you’ll join me. Or we can choose something non-alcoholic.”

“Mmm, a bottle of wine sounds good. It’s been a while since I had any,” I tell him, shoving the memory of Cara and me clinking glasses at my birthday party down deep. This is a date. My first. And I don’t want to ruin it by thinking about the past.

Aisling returns and nods when Teague orders a bottle of white wine.

I open the menu and stare at the list of mouthwatering dishes. Roasted duck, pork ribeye, lamb, salmon. Everything sounds delicious. Not wanting to get the most expensive thing, I scan the list, but there aren’t any prices. I bite my lip.

“Is something wrong?” Teague asks, attuned as always.

“There are no prices on the menu,” I reply, wondering what I should do.

“Guess that means you have to pick what you want, not what you think you should get,” he muses, his sterling eyes shining with silver amusement. “I know you like steak, but what else looks good?”

“Almost everything,” I reply, a little overwhelmed by the choices. “What’s your favorite?”

His lips curl. “I love everything. Sorry, I know that’s not helping. Do you have any allergies or anything you don’t like?”

“No allergies,” I tell him, looking back at the list. “I tried venison when I was a kid. Didn’t like it.” There are quite a few things on here that I don’t recognize. Like mafaldine, carpaccio, croquettes. Tapping my leg, I skim each dish over and over.

Teague’s hand comes down on my knee, stopping it from bouncing. His thumb lightly circles the inside of my knee, and heat spirals out from that one little spot. “The first thing I tried here was the roasted chicken with lemon garlic sauce, truffle mac and cheese, and crispy Brussel sprouts. It was amazing. I promise anything you pick will be incredible.”

Exhaling slowly, I try not to think about the thumb that’s slowly driving me crazy.

Aisling returns to pour the wine into our glasses. “Decide on an appetizer?”

I wrinkle my nose. Didn’t look at that list.

“We’ll take the steak frites skewers. Medium rare,” he replies.

Aisling leaves, and I turn to Teague. “What are frites?”

He leans in close like he’s going to tell me a secret. “Fancy word for fries.”

I laugh. “Seriously?”